


So Close, So Far

by ekwtsm



Category: The Streets of San Francisco
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 21:52:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10930755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ekwtsm/pseuds/ekwtsm
Summary: Sometimes you come just this close to your dreams....





	So Close, So Far

“Okay, so what’s wrong now?”

“Nothing.”

Steve swallowed a chuckle and, with raised eyebrows and a slow shake of his head, stuck the straw in his mouth and took another sip of his Coke. His eyes slid sideways again and he watched as Mike took another deep, almost sad, sigh and looked once more at the program in his hand. 

“Are you going to keep score?” Steve asked, trying to keep the growing amusement out of his tone.

Mike glanced up as two young men, in caps and jerseys, their arms laden with cardboard cartons of hot dogs and soft drinks, waited patiently for he and Steve to stand to let them by. Mike couldn’t resist a grumpy stare as they picked their way past without a word. 

As the cops sat back down, Steve glanced over again. “You sure you don’t want a dog?” 

“Maybe later,” Mike mumbled as he fished his glasses out of the inside pocket of his black Giants jacket and put them on. He produced a ballpoint pen from his shirt pocket and, glancing back and forth from the large scoreboard to the scorecard on his lap, began to copy the names of the players.

Steve glanced around the stadium. When he had first begun to work with Mike, he had no real interest in baseball and was somewhat baffled by the older man’s allegiance to not only the game itself but moreso to The City’s own Giants. It was almost a religious devotion that he found somewhat amusing. 

They had been partners barely two months when Mike dragged him to his first Giants game. It was a regular season contest against the vaunted Pittsburgh Pirates, and as Mike carefully, and skillfully, explained the finer points of the game, the chess-like movements of the fielders and the selection of pitches, which changed constantly, he began to develop a deeper appreciation of the national pastime. 

And by the time their second year together had passed, Steve was almost as devoted a Giants fan as was his mentor. He had grown to appreciate not only the game but what the team meant for The City and its habitués. 

And tonight, four years into their partnership, he had surprised his partner, and best friend, with what many considered to be the ‘holy grail’ of gifts for the true baseball aficionado. 

Mike’s reaction had been a study in contrasts. His immediate elation upon setting eyes on the tickets he was holding in his hand was quickly followed by the realization of what he was actually now in possession of, and it was quite obvious to anyone who was looking that there was now a war going on inside the mind, and soul, of this baseball fanatic.

He had stammered a sincere, and heartfelt, expression of gratitude, but the melancholy in his eyes was unmistakable. Steve knew why, and granted the older man his obvious ambivalence with a gracious goodwill.

And now they were at the stadium, on this chilly October night. And the electricity in the air was palpable and infectious. The large park was obviously sold out, and the pre-game noise was almost deafening. 

Steve glanced once more to his right, noting that Mike, scorecard filled out and ready to go, had sat back and was once more staring with barely concealed despondency at the field. 

The pre-game rituals were in full swing, and the buzz in the stadium was heady. As much as he tried to resist, for Mike’s sake, Steve found himself getting caught up in the growing excitement.

Silently, they watched the opening ceremonies. It was hard to make out the p.a. announcements over the continuous roar from the sold-out crowd. A tall, sport-coat wearing man in a beige hat took his place on the mound and threw out the first pitch.

“Who’s that?” Mike asked, finally showing a little interest in the pregame rites.

Steve glanced over before answering. “He’s an actor. They’re filming a cop show in town and I think Charlie Finlay knows this guy and invited him to throw out the first pitch.”

“Humh,” Mike grunted under his breath. “Lucky bastard.”

Steve chuckled silently, once more swallowing a smile. “Come on, Mike, loosen up a bit, will ya?” He gestured around the park. “It’s the World Series. Seriously, I mean, how many times in your life are you gonna get to a go to a World Series game.”

Above his neutral, almost frustrated expression, Mike’s eyes slowly slid in his partner’s direction. “Buddy boy, you have no idea how much this means to me, you really don’t. This is the best present you could have given me, and I mean that sincerely.” 

He paused and took a deep breath, then he started to grin and shook his head. “But, come on, Steve – it’s Oakland – and they’re playing the Dodgers!”


End file.
